


love song

by thestarsaregivenonceonly



Category: Timothée Chalamet - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Smut, timothee blurb, timothee chalamet blurb, timothee chalamet imagine, timothee chalamet smut, timothee imagine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 12:24:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21118745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thestarsaregivenonceonly/pseuds/thestarsaregivenonceonly
Summary: anonymous asked:could you write something about tim and reader's wedding based on love song by lana del rey?





	love song

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr same username xx

Eleven o’ clock after they had gone. You sat on the edge of the bathtub with Timmy, soaking your feet in warm water and laughing hysterically. He had almost fallen into the water while stepping in, holding your hand with shaking, drunken fingers. Drunk, just drunk enough, but not so drunk that I won’t remember every last second. Everything he had said that day rang through your ears like heaven’s bells. 

“I adore you. Every part of you, every loose string and healing wound and flaw. You’re everything. You’re so smart, so witty and funny in just the right moments. You’re the cutest person I’ve ever met, and I think that everyone here today can attest to that.” Nods in the congregation. 

You giggled and stomped your feet, heels clicking, wiggling your hips and squeezing his hands. He laughed loudly, as did the rest of the people there. 

“See what I mean? You do stuff like that, and it makes me want to protect you from the world. It makes me want to hold you and never let go, take you everywhere, kiss you like crazy, just live my life with you. Everything you do captures my heart, and I love you so much.” He squeezed your hands, begging you to hear what he was saying and soak in every syllable. His eyes were wide and empty, for he was pouring every last bit of himself out of his lips. Like sweet honey. “I ache with it, I ache with love for you, and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life showing that to you.” 

What words. He kissed you long and with passion that night in a room hidden away while the guests did the electric slide. Your hands wound into his hair, his on your hips, the fire that came in the beginning never ceasing to grow brighter, hotter. He tasted like champagne and sharp whiskey. His sister found you then, laughing and tugging you both back into the main ballroom and reminding you that you had all night to yourselves after a few more dances. You were getting breathless, the weight of the dress bringing gravity into an equation others were not struggling with. He was wild and free all night, taking his tie off and wrapping it around your neck, tying it into a fancy knot and leaving it there. He tugged on it every time he kissed you. 

You wiggled your toes in the warm water, holding your dress above your knees and leaning against his side. He kissed the top of your head and wrapped his arm around you, rubbing your arm and creating warm friction with his hand. Your skin ignited, a promise for the rest of the night hidden between his fingertips. 

It had rained briefly that morning, the good luck hitting the streets for a few minutes before it continued along it’s way. The sun came out, the warmth on your skin welcoming you to the best day of your life. They fussed and primped, and all you could do was gaze in the mirror and think about his face. Their dresses, a green that you had chosen rather purposefully, reflected his gaze back at you. He chuckled when they walked down the aisle, shaking his head, knowing. Oh, the way that he had looked at you… your heart inflated, beating it’s love, I’m on my way to forever with you. It all melted away, the fears and struggles and fights and worries. He was a dream in black and white, vintage and classic, desperate to touch you as you moved to take his hand. 

“Are you happy?” 

Focusing again, your mind racing with the new memories, you turned to him, beaming. “I’ve never been happier, Tim. Are you?” 

“You have absolutely no idea.” 

“I think I might.” 

“Take a bath with me?” 

You nodded eagerly, standing and moving your veil aside to step from the tub . Once he had removed his feet, you turned the water back on and found a bottle of bubbles to pour in. He began to shed his clothing, you’re mine, you’re mine, your eyes took him in, he’s mine. 

“Turn around,” he mumbled, eyes making love to you already. You turned and held your hair aside, removing your veil and placing it carefully on the sink. He unzipped the back of your dress slowly, stepping closer and pressing a gentle kiss into your neck. You exhaled and leaned back into him, willing him to touch you everywhere, leave nothing unloved. Suddenly all that mattered was his skin on yours, and you pressed your bare back against his chest as he pushed the dress down. 

“Let me put it out here,” he said, lifting it very slowly from the floor and carrying it from the room, his shirt half open and his belt unhooked. 

You removed your bra and panties and stepped into the water, moaning softly in contentment. He reappeared, stopping in the doorway and watching you. You lifted your arms and reached for him. 

“Come here, baby.” 

“You are so fucking beautiful,” he breathed, shutting the door behind him, his eyes devouring you. “You are everything.” 

Into the bath with you then, you moved forward and settled back against his chest, feeling his desire against your body. A soft sigh escaped your mouth, and he groaned. 

“If this isn’t foreplay I don’t know what is.” 

You giggled, turning your head to kiss him and wiggling closer. He picked a washcloth up from the side of the tub, putting it in the water and squeezing the bubbles onto your arms. You hummed quietly and closed your eyes, leaning your head back into the crook of his neck. He kissed your temple and washed over your chest, the silence resonating in your ears. There was so much romance in the silence, such an insanely stunning intimacy that you had never known before. He continued to slowly wash you, breathing harder and shifting his waist as time passed. 

“Mmmm, you alright, love?” 

“Can we get out?” 

You laughed, sliding forward and turning to face him. “Neeeeeeeeed something?” 

His eyebrow arched, a smirk. “Well, Mrs. Chalamet.” Your heart stopped, every time you heard it was better than the time before. “I’d like to have some time with my wife in bed, if she’d be so kind to do me the honor.” 

You stood immediately, Mrs. Chalamet was really all it took, and moved to get out of the tub, wrapping a towel around your body and vigorously rubbing your skin to get it dry, all the while randomly reminding yourself that you should be patting instead. Time was all that mattered. He was doing the same, shaking out the few droplets of water that had held onto his hair. 

“C’mere,” he gasped, winding an arm around your waist and tugging your body against him, kissing you hard and reaching behind him to open the door. 

You pushed him to turn the other way, moving faster, and reached out to slap him on the ass. He whined and stopped moving, turning to face you with a pout. 

“I thought about this at least four times today I cannot believe you beat me.” 

“I waited all day for this, I planned it, is that pathetic?” A butt smacking competition. Every day, whenever, wherever, whoever did it first (successfully) was the winner. “I was avoiding turning my back to you and everything.” 

“No. You’re an evil genius. My wife is an evil genius.” 

“Ohhhh,” you shuddered. “say it again.”

He leaned forward, pulling you and moving backwards, purring, “evil genius.” 

“Fuck you.” 

He laughed with joy, lowering his voice and allowing you to push him on the bed.

“My wife.” 

You straddled his waist, lining yourself up, kissing his neck, the sounds he was making were so erotic you could hardly stand it. 

“Again.” 

“My wife.” You lowered yourself suddenly and there he was, full and complete, he cried out and fell backwards. You raised your body for a better angle and moved with him again, holding both hands, fingers intertwined. Tim watched you speechlessly, lips parted, little moans of pleasure escaping here and there. You couldn’t, wouldn’t stop, faster, head falling back.

“My husband.” 

“Oh, fuck!” He gasped, lifting his hips suddenly up to meet you. “Again.”

“My husband, Timothée.” 

“Oh my God.” 

“My husband,” you hit the stars and fell forward, kissing him through it and letting him swallow your sounds.


End file.
